" "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. Something drew you. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. " And he pointed significantly to the hand. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. And―and he wanted to help you. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. " "My conscience acquits me of all share in the offence," replied Jack, humbly.
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